A Sharecropper's Healthcare Plan

My grandfather never held political office but he was born for the political arena. He knew the issues before the issues became stories. The summer of ’75 was my introduction to political campaigns, thanks to my grandfather who I affectionately called “Daddy”.

My grandfather was asked that year to work on an ambitious gubernatorial campaign that would include Blacks and Whites working together. This campaign would focus on the “The working man’s friend”. The lack of job security was one issue that united Mississippians. “Everyone needs a job,” was impressed upon my grandfather. The promise of bringing manufacturing jobs to a state that had relied heavily on agriculture caught my grandfather’s attention. Daddy was a lover of politics, but reserved a fair amount of skepticism for anyone in political office. One of his favorite sayings was “They all lie and will eat their young to get elected.” But Daddy seemed enthusiastic about this particular campaign. I was nine years old working beside my grandfather, the master of political campaigns.

Daddy learned every candidate inside and out and taught his grandchildren everything about grass root campaigning. Pick a candidate and Daddy could tell you about his childhood, his personal life, his military service, his political view points and most importantly, the issues. Daddy was not entrenched in party affiliations but believed financial independence for families was more important than a letter by the politician’s name. Lack of job readiness and the skyrocketing unemployment could not be ignored. “Stick to the issues,” my grandfather told us over and over as we knocked on doors and shared with everyone their vote was important. “Don’t debate fear and hate,” he would add. Fear? Hate? Wait a minute. Why was he mentioning fear and hate when he wanted us to help register voters, give out campaign cards and hang posters on electric poles along Hwy 61? I dared not pose my questions out loud…no one questioned my grandfather.

We hit the counties that were heavily agricultural. Not cities or small towns but the countryside where soybeans and cotton fields grew as far as the eye can see and little shanty houses were dotted every few acres. That is where I encountered the fear of the unknown that was meshed with hatred of learning the truth. Knocking on doors was an education of a lifetime. One encounter will always remain with me.

I knocked on the door of a sharecropper’s home. I was prepared with my best repertoire with a smile. An elderly woman answered the door looking at me like I was an alien from another world as I extended my hand to shake hers. I stood straight and tall in my campaign t-shirt with ribbons tied on my ponytails. I had a lunch box which I used to keep my campaign fliers, voter lists and property information. I shared about jobs and employment as if I was saying my Easter speech at church.

Her response to my banter was unexpected. She spoke with hostility as she informed me her land would not be taken from her. ‘They’ were not going to remove her from her home. “This is my land,” she repeated sternly as she pointed to no place in particular and no one was going to take it. I glanced out at the acres of crops planted up to the steps and looked back at her, announcing innocently, “This is not your land you, you pick cotton for Mr. Jones. Daddy wants to help you get a job so you can buy your own house.” (Mr. Jones, the owner of the land, lived in the big yellow house at the end of the dirt road that we could see from the front porch.)

At that moment, the Mississippi River dried up that day. A nine year old was telling an elder that she didn’t know what she was talking about and shattering her belief that she owned the land that she toiled for decades. Watching her expression change, I knew I was in trouble with her and my granddaddy.

Our beliefs, accurate or inaccurate, can help us survive challenging circumstances.The woman's world view was consistent with what most sharecroppers believed. Although they lived and worked on land that many would never own, many believed that the landowner would one day give it to them because they were told this by the owner, who in turn, benefited from them believing the lie. I handed her a property list from my lunch box that listed the landowner; it also stated he was a registered voter. She was not listed as a registered voter. She asked, “Where did you get this from little girl?” I said proudly, “Daddy. He got it from the court house.” Beaming, I told her to go to the court house and ask for the records from the clerk. My mother, who taught me about records and deeds, worked in the tax assessor’s office assisting homeowner’s file their homestead exemptions.

The woman grew pale and seemed to age as she told me she was going to tell my folks that I had sassed her. She sat down abruptly on a bench and as she continued to mumble it was her land. I did not know if I had educated her or killed her. I decided if I am going to get a whipping, I better make sure I told everything. I proceeded to tell her how much land Mr. Jones owned throughout the county. My words were backed up by the property list. But she continued to say she owned the land as if she was trying to convince herself. I remember another saying of my grandfather’s “Never argue with a fool, they will either win the argument or kill you.” Sensing her despair and frustration, I backed off the porch and wished her a good day as I skipped off to catch up with my cousins who were waiting. Hearing the bench move, my skipping was replaced by running. Fear for my safety made me run faster. The more things change the more things remain the same.

How many understand the issues that have polarized communities around the nation with fear of what ifs and misinformation? The town hall meetings shown on cable news are as confusing as the language being used to describe the events. The media has focused on the drama rather than the real issues.

Have you read the bill, HR 3200? Not the talking points given to industry insiders, pundits or politicians’ stomp speeches, but the actual bill itself. I have been reading the bill for the last month. I have not made it to page 500 of 1,081 pages document. I called my insurance agent to get his input about a particular passage and he was taken aback. I am self employed. My deductible is $10K and all visits are paid out of pocket until that deductible is met. This summer, I paid thousands of dollars in medical payments for my child who had taken ill suddenly. My monthly premiums are $398.00. I have never filed a medical claim in fifteen years. The doctors’ invoices are paid by me and the insurance company premiums are paid whether I work or not. The more I write, the more I feel like the sharecropper. I am working to pay for nothing.

I contacted my primary care physician to discuss a few issues about my healthcare plans for the future. I was asked to set an appointment. The consultation was going to be considered an office visit. I would need to pay $125. (Note to self, find a new doctor this week.)

As life intersects with today’s political scene, the sharecropper’s despair and frustration desribes how many feel about healthcare. We are faced with “choices” that many do not understand, will not be able to buy and will never be able to vote on. We cannot be like the sharecroppers who never received the benefits from being landowners because they did not know the truth about the property they labored on and did not own, we cannot accept what we are told. We must ask questions and educate ourselves about the issues. Talking points and massive hysteria will never stand up to honest scrutiny. Fear only breeds contempt and contempt will leave us with empty promises, political rhetoric and DC’s business-as-usual-culture.

We, the people, will never have the health care provided to our politicians under the golden dome. We elected them to serve us, all of us, but often politicians serve themselves first. Remember what Daddy said. “They eat their young.” HR 3200 has become an off shoot to issues that politicians will not speak truth to power. They are more concerned about maintaining their office than giving us real answers.

I have shared my thoughts about the bill with every sitting U.S. Representatives from the state of Tennessee and the White House. Have you shared yours? I urge everyone to read the bill for themselves, ask questions of insurance agents and doctors as well as your elected officials. I would like to hear more discussion around insurance reform which drives the health care bus but that's me. Let’s not accept the sharecropper’s stake in the reform debate. Instead let's hold our politicians accountable for the premiums our tax dollars pay for their insurance plans.

For HR3200 - http://docs.house.gov/edlabor/AAHCA-BillText-071409.pdf
For changes www.govtrack.us

Did you say that?

“Ma they are talking about YOU because you talked about ME!” My oldest son called to tell me I had made the news. Not about my recent award for business but about my article I wrote about my favorite subject, my children. He was laughing but I could hear the concern in his voice. “Not everyone will like what I write,” I reassured him. I reminded him of some his poems that I am still trying to figure out.

We chatted about Twitter, my post that got a few folks up in arms, and we discussed what others say I said. We ended the conversation laughing about another incident from his childhood that he knows will make the paper one day. “Ma, you are crazy, got to run”. I held the phone for a second thanking God that I am at a place in life when hearing my son call me crazy was a not a sign of disrespect. It reminded me of my relationship with my mother. It took us much longer to find that peacefulness. My mother has written for years about her life as an educator raising her family in the middle of nowhere with a well known political father. I remember saying to her, “Mom, you said that?” Now, my children are expressing the same words to me.

I realized I had become my mother when she came for a visit several months ago. She was looking at copies of INspired Living and thumbing through the Tennessee Tribune. Throughout the issues were stories of friends, business encounters, and stories about life. My mother, author of several books, ran a newspaper for years and publishes a small community paper now. She brought her paper with her for me to read. “It gives me something to do,” she said. My blogging started years ago to help work through some challenging issues that knocked me off my feet. It was a joy to turn on the computer and write a few words. My book shelf was brimming over with self-help books that did not make sense or help.

My stories, at that time, were about what was driving me insane, work-life balance and trying to raise children that seemed hell bent on raising themselves. Trying to figure out how to be superwoman, supermom, and a business owner was mind numbing and unobtainable. I could not do it all and my failures were up front and center. Admitting I did not have it all together was the first step to moving forward. Sharing with others how not to fall for the myth that we can do it all lead to several writing assignments that were therapeutic.

Parental Wisdom’s publisher asked me to give advice for an online column with millions of readers and soon others followed. My volunteer work with the Oasis Center also became part of my storylines. Volunteering helped me to see I was not alone. My concern about my children and how to balance our life as I managed family values with the harshness of the real world was complicated. I realized young people were experiencing life that collided at the intersection of perception and reality. What I experienced as a child in rural Mississippi was not the experiences of teens from Brentwood to Hendersonville and every place in between. My children were bright and street smart but also naïve. Television gives us glimpses of the world but it can also distort our vision as well. I vowed to not look at life through rose color lens.

I am closer to me children because of our hiccups and mishaps over the last several years. But they are still young people who need guidance. As they are starting and finishing college, I am learning not to smother them but a momma bear will always be a bear. They have given me many sleepless nights but they have also given me many years of joy as well. My stories may not be your story and that is okay. My parents taught me part of enjoying life is to experience people. Especially, people not like you. Everyone has a story. It is what makes us unique and wonderfully made. I encourage everyone to take time to hear from others who are different. It will enrich our lives and help us see our community from diverse perspectives as we get to know our neighbors and learn from the knowledge of others.

My children are my sources of strength, inspiration and motivation for me. My family experiences makes me certified ‘crazy’. But that craziness has produced a determination to live life to the fullest and to help make our community a better place for everyone. As I mature and season with life, I have learned that if you are not being talked about you…then you are not doing anything.

Have I said Thank You?

After my fright with hurricane Alexis four years ago, my focus has been her. She can distracted me easily since that time, but I mean well. We are better, but my life changed a lot and for that I am grateful. That trying moment is a constant reminder that no one said parenting was going to be easy and never be embarrassed to ask for help. My parents had a coalition of aunts, uncles and grandparents to help raise me. I remind myself of that often.

In my day to day business world, I have recruited individuals with the heart to help. While raising my kids, my coalition of friends help me keep my business on the right track. One of those friends is Jennifer Milele. Jennifer is a servant leader with a heart of gold. She works over time to be the best she can be in her business, JLyn Dsignz. She is also responsible for graphics for the column I write for Mrs. Perry and The Tennessee Tribune.

Last week, she shared her day was going to be a hectic one. The kind of day we have all experienced being a mother, business owner, civic leader, and net-worker. Her to-do list was longer than her body and she was short on time. As she was sharing her endless list with me, I heard myself talking. How many times have I had more tasks than time? I did not ask if she needed help, I chimed in and took a few errands off her plate. She would have done the same thing for me.

Have I said thank you, Jennifer?

Jennifer, thank you for working long hours making me look my best. I forgot to say thank you when she made last minute changes at 2:00 in the morning for me to make an 8:00 a.m. presentation. I have forgotten to say thank you in my rush to get your work to press more times than I care to mention. You are the best and no one is as patience as you. Thank you for all you. No one can talk politics(smack), graphics, and motherhood like you.

For those of us that have gems like Jennifer in our lives, stop and say thank you. With our lives being as busy as we make them, I am sure there is someone we may have forgotten to say two enduring words that can brightens some one's day.

Jennifer, dinner for two is on me this week! Thank you.

photo: taken at Belk's for community awareness of Homebased businesses
www.jlyndsignz.com

Mr. Officer

Have you ever been stopped by a cop for a reason that made absolutely no sense? Everyone has a story. I have learned by trial and error that my attitude often determines the outcome of the situation. When my sons were becoming older teens who wanted to drive, my fear of an attitude with a police officer was overwhelming. National headlines have given credence to the pain of mothers who have lost sons as a result of routine traffic stops that lead to death, especially for young black men.

Whether we like it or not, an officer is in charge when one is stopped. The questions, the tone, and the information that is written in the police report are orchestrated by the officer. What I have tried to instill in my sons is to keep the conversation respectable but short. It is “yes sir” or “no sir” at all times, regardless of what others may think.

Keep your hands on the steering wheel and your body relaxed to help the officer remain unruffled, I would plead. No jerky movements, I have counseled. Your body language and tone of voice is being scrutinized by an officer with a badge and gun. By staying calm, you can keep the interaction limited. Paying attention to your mom’s instructions can add years to your life.

Ages ago in a small town in Mississippi, my grandparents imparted the same words to me.

My sons are part of the Millennial Generation. Their curiosity can be mistaken for defiance. A question like, “What did I do?” can land them handcuffed in the back of a squad car if they are dealing with an officer, who has no patience for young people questioning them. Questioning a cop can be perceived as disrespectful and unacceptable. The more questions peppered at an officer can extend your time with him/her. That extension of time can lead to; unfair treatment, embarrassment, humiliation or in many cases “accidental” death.

I warned my eldest, on many occasions, that driving around with friends could attract a cop’s attention who may assume he was participating in gang activities. Of course, my kids believed these tirades were illogical and I was being overprotective. For some folks, you have to show them the light.

To put my words into application, I once asked a recent graduate from the police academy to help my eldest son understand that my worries were valid. He assured me he would teach him an unforgettable lesson. Several evenings later, my unsuspecting man-child was stopped by the graduate and was asked a slew of unimportant questions.

Where are you going tonight? Is this your car? Why are you out so late? What do your parents do?

The list was endless. The barrage of inquiries was intended to irritate and distract. As my son started to lose his composure and show his annoyance, the officer became more “aggressive” my son said later.

Consequently, he ended up on the hood of his SUV faced down and was told to address the officer as “Mr. Officer, sir”. After being given a fictional ticket and the fright of his life, he came home shaking with rage. As he tried to explain his terrorizing encounter he experienced, I continued the interrogation by asking about his actions that provoked the officer. I could hear the disbelief in his voice as he tried to repeat the sequence of events. I was not interested in the cop’s behavior but his responses to the cop. I saw the white hot anger on his face. I remind him that his exasperation was what others experienced daily.

You are lucky to be alive and you should never forget tonight, I told him.

The next day, his dad shared the same sentiments,

Son, you may be right but anytime you have a run in with a cop, YOU have to remain in control. He has a gun and a badge. You have to live to tell what happened.

Some criticized me for the extreme measure I took to teach that lesson. But when I see the disproportionate number of traffic stops that turned deadly for young black men, I am glad he was stopped by a trusted friend. I advocate mandatory cop interaction classes for all drivers. Tasers have replaced guns as weapons of choice by officers who have used them on everyone from teens to 70 year old ladies. Recent news coverage show tasers can have deadly outcomes as well.

When asked to discuss "Gates Gates" on a national radio show last month, I declined. My frank thinking would not have fit into the national conversation about the Harvard Professor’s arrest. Was it racism at play? To me, the real story was the inconsistency in the 911 recording and the police report. Focusing on Gates’ education or his statue in life had nothing to do with the arrest. Common sense from driving down Hwy 61 in Mississippi and Andrew Jackson Blvd. in Hermitage, TN has trained me to keep the conversation with an officer to a minimum. If I am treated unfairly by an officer, then my influence and contacts would be used to seek justice in a court of law. It is better to walk away alive with a bruised ego, than to end up in jail or worse…in a morgue.

It Takes a Village

I am the perfect imperfect mom. My kids are everything I want to be in life and everything I want to change about me. I try to celebrate their uniqueness by keeping them engaged and involved in our community.

Raising my oldest, Franz, was as taxing as my youngest. I actually earned my stripes with him. He was too smart for his own good and no matter where we put him, his inquisitive nature got him trouble. He was not a bad kid and never did anything to hurt others; he just got into trouble…often.

When he attended school at MLK, Dr. Saffell-Smith was the principal. I introduced myself to her at the first parent-teacher conference and told her he was going to be a handful. Any advice she had to give, I was willing to listen. I am not a parent to complain about a teacher’s authority and I have always supported anyone who cultivates leadership and growth in my children. Dr. Saffell-Smith’s patience was put to test within the first month of school. A call about his rambunctious behavior was the beginning of my relationship with Dr. Saffell-Smith.

Dr. Saffell-Smith and I talked weekly. She never let him get away with anything. She was the first to bring up the word mentor with me. While I was frustrated and yelling, she remained calm and encouraging. She never gave up even when I wanted too. She introduced David Bullock to our family. At that time, David worked for FANUC Robotics. They had similar spirits and complimented each other well. Under David's watchful eye, my son started networking and working for himself. David gave him small projects to complete that would earn him income. Earning his own money at an early age was the key to helping him value being independent later.

My kid, who gave me migraines and sleepless nights, graduated with honors from MLK in 2004. He chose his college (TSU), he worked out his scholarship offers and took the lessons he learned from his schools, his principles, his mentor and family with him. The good, the bad and the ugly were all part of building his character. He navigated his college education by building a support network among his professors and peers. His sophomore year, he joined the track team and promised me he would not allow track to distract him from his studies.

The decision to run track while studying sports medicine was not my choice for him but he was “grown” and what could I say. The conversations about school and post graduate studies were peppered with track meets. I was afraid he was being diverted from his education. We came to an impasse his senior year when I was informed he was not going to march in May. He said he had a track meet. The words I uttered that day can never be taken back. He told me later, he had already hung up his cell and never heard me. Thank God.

He marched August 8, 2008. He was number one in his school and carried the flag. My tears flowed freely as I shouted his name. I acknowledge, his four years of college was around the time of his sibling’s crazy phase. Franz graduation’s helped me to realize that a mother never stops wanting the best for her children. He started grad school the following month. He was also hired as the assistant strength coach. Looking at his schedule, I mentioned school/ work balance. He hurriedly told me he can manage both. Not only was he independent but he was determined.

This summer, I turned my attention to my youngest son and his laid back attitude about life. He was feeling my wrath. While I was dealing with his younger brother, Franz went to Colorado with Coach for three weeks. He mentioned a training event but no other details were given.

When he returned home, he looked as if he found his calling in life. He was a trainer and guide for the Paralympics for Team USA. He worked with blind runners for two weeks at the U.S. Olympics facilities in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Did I ask about school and work? No. I have learned; he knows what he is doing. It truly takes a village…two more to go. Now don’t go anywhere, I need you.

The Real Spidey Movie

My customers come from all genres and are as eclectic as my jewelry box. Many have been with me through my career changes. One of my favorite groups of customers are those in the film industry. When I transformed from diva to pest control operator, I brought my clients from that business with me. I also market my pest control services to the production companies and theater groups.

Tennessee is a mecca for production companies. Generous tax incentives given to lure Hollywood to the Volunteer state and Tennessee’s right to work status causes companies to flock here in droves. Because of the state‘s climate, pest control issues can plague a set while filming a film, commercial, video or producing a play. Recently, I got a call from one of my favorite casting directors about a pest control issue that threaten the future of a film project. Never one to miss an opportunity to network and audition, I was out the door as soon as I hung up.

Following an hour drive to Smith County, I arrived to see a crew looking anxious and rattled. I was ushered to the production office as if I was Nicole Kidman and the star of my own show. There I was greeted with hugs by the executive producer, production manager, the director and a host of staff. Feeling the anxiety, I asked what could possibly have everyone so uptight. I was informed by the AD that the rented home, which was the backdrop of the storyline, was vacant except for the brown recluse spiders.

Geez. God must be angry with me, I thought. Why not fires ants, cave crickets, funky Mexican beetles, even a snake...but not that nightmare with legs- the brown recluse spider. My acting skills kicked in big time because I was cool as a cumber outwardly, but I could feel the pressure on my chest. Brown recluse spiders, with a production company, were a tall order. I did not want the film company’s budget on my shoulders. I asked Anna, the accountant and long time customer, to give me the production cost per day for filming and the schedule for scene sequences. She jotted a few figures on a note pad that made my jaw drop. With that in mind, I told them I would need to be paid in cash and needed to see the home before I committed to the job.

The AD and I walked up the long drive way to the rustic two-story home. I asked how they got into this situation without talking to HPC beforehand. Oftentimes, we would service a home or stage days prior to the shoot date. He said the location scout knew the home owners. I gave him a "fire the scout look" and he nodded silently. As we got closer, he reminded me of the number of referrals he had sent me over the years and stressed how much he needed me.

Entering the home, I realized why it was chosen for the scenes. The view was beautiful and the empty, spacious rooms were perfect for filming. We moved up the steps quietly. Reaching the top of the steps, I suddenly felt as if I had entered a house of horrors. Spiders were everywhere and suddenly I became conscious of my exposed arms. I returned to my truck to get a Tylek suit, which is a white head to toe coverall. I could sense the fear from the crew as they watched silently. As I was zipping up my suit, I felt the eyes of the camera operators looking as if they were third graders watching “Saw”. I jokingly told them that the suit was my secret weapon to dropping twenty pounds before hitting the red carpets. My joke was not acknowledged. No one laughed. The air was thick with tension. This group of people was knowledgeable about brown recluse spiders.

We returned to the house. Spiders and insects from every genus lurked in the rooms. In light fixtures, on the walls, in cracks, and along the baseboards--bugs had invaded the house along with a profusion of brown recluse spiders. I could not hide my dismay. The look on the AD’s face could not be produced by any bloodcurdling movie. And the sweat on his forehead had nothing to do with the heat. After being upstairs for only short while, a few spiders were on my suit.

We made our way outside and out of view of the crew. We carefully peeled off my suit and double checked for spiders on our clothing. Then we had a brutally frank conversation. The job was not my dilemma but adequate time to complete the work thoroughly would be the challenge. Several days would be needed to work and filming was scheduled to start the next day. I told him he had a huge problem on his hand. Working on a set with a brown recluse infestation, would produce unscripted screams and frightening consequences. If I committed to doing the job, I was not willing to make any guarantees. The staff would want to hear from ME about their safety and I was not going to withhold information from the crew, which were made up of long time customers and friends. Their confidence in me was too valuable to lose. He was in a serious jam and we both knew it. Once we exhausted the number of “what ifs” and risks involved, we took back all talking points to the waiting staff and the crew.

My message to everyone was worthy of an Oscar. I explained the possibilities and what was impossible under the circumstances. I needed to reschedule commercial clients to accommodate the Smith County job. HPC was not made up of miracle workers but we would do the job, without promises, if we were given more time. We agreed to start that day and I made a phone call to an elderly couple in Wilson County who owned a home with a similar majestic view. She contracted to allow them to film outdoor scenes while we worked to rid the house of the fear-provoking spiders.

We started working at 2:00 pm and did not stop until 8:00. The next two days, we worked from 6am to 9pm with an hour break. The home was unfit for filming or living. Spiders were in every imaginable corner of the house. The attic was the mother of all lairs. Vacuuming removed many spiders but the more we vacuumed the more the bugs kept coming. We cracked and creviced the entire home with environmental insecticide sprays, dusts, and aerosols. HPC is one of the few companies that will not laden a home or office with sticky boards and hand over an invoice. We use the old fashion method of seek and destroy. It is very time consuming and tedious work. Did I mention an outside wall was covered in ivy? And not to leave out the creep chimney that had a throbbing web in it that looked like a glob with hairy legs. This was not the largest brown recluse job we have ever undertaken by any means but the turnaround time made this job complex. We are known for our public awareness ads educating families about the dangers of brown recluse. The ads are placed in program guides of Little League sports teams. Knowledge is power and informed moms and dads give us customers who are concerned about the family’s welfare. Rarely do we deal with price shopping landlords or government entities.

Brown recluse spiders thrive in homes and offices. They breed inside walls, in boxes, basements, attics and other out of the way places. This vacant home was the perfect environment for spiders that have no natural enemies. Left untreated, a bite from this spider can cause serious damage to living tissue within hours. Necrosis, death of the flesh, is extremely painful. The venom from the spider is lethal to the muscle. The dead tissue must be surgically remove often leaving scars that are disfiguring and gruesome looking. I have seen bites that have left individuals in the ICU. A wound can take months to heal and sometimes reopen years after a bite.


When we finished the job, the crew returned to film but asked us to remain on the set. I was the pest control guru complete with a trailer and phone in movie land. Talk about the role of a lifetime. The crew was gracious and thankful. I got my ‘star’ in the production manager’s rolodex. I received a call from Tennessee’s film commission office asking me to submit my info to the state’s website. For you non-Hollywood folks (via Tennessee), that’s big. This horrific story ends with happy customers and my kid’s tuition getting paid.

To my former agent who told me I was a fool to start a pest control company, watch the credits baby-my name will be on the big screen after all!

BIA2: The Continuing Mis-Education of America

I watched Black in America 2 with great trepidation. I honestly sent up a prayer begging God to have mercy on black folks, all America would be watching this show. My prayers got stuck somewhere over Nashville’s skyline because what I saw was a diversity project gone astray.

I applaud CNN for wanting to show that they are committed to diverse subject matter. After all, they are the “most trusted name in the news.” What I find perplexing is the need to script news segments and promote the result as a documentary about life in Black America. Based on the promos, BIA2 would bring forth new ideas or solutions to old problems within the black community. Part 1, which I watched three times, gave us the same extremes that are usually spotlighted by the media and left many wondering why repeat the predictable caricatures that appear on cable news every day.

CNN’s narratives exploited the most vulnerable segment of the community and highlighted bourgeois attitudes at their worst. There is no denying that the two groups – the very affluent and the poor - are parts of the black community. But the affluent and poor are in any group of people. For millions of black folks who work hard every day, who are not making six figure incomes, who pay their bills and taxes, and who have trials and struggles like everyone else, what CNN profiled is not a total of our sums. CNN continued the perpetuation of the same stereotypical genres of black life which are the focus of the media the majority of the time. Blacks are viewed as thugs in jail, unwed teens, and absentee fathers/mothers. While true facets of the black experience, they are not reflect of all of our lives. Just like poverty stricken trailer parks and welfare mothers are not reflective of any other group. In a veiled attempt to show balance, mainstream media who most often portray the negative aspects of the black experience will occasionally show an elitist intellectual who is out of touch with his/her people and reality. Good, wholesome and normal people in the black community are rarely shown on television. BIA2 should have been renamed the “Continued Mis-education of White America” (and the rest of the world). Where is the balance between the two extremes?

In part one, CNN showed three segments. The first segment focused on thirty youth at a community center who traveled to Africa to learn more about themselves by having experiences with other youth whose circumstances were as cruel as their own. Taking young people from the inner city for two weeks to serve the world’s poorest is noble. Mrs. Compton-Rock is to be commended for her dedication to her organization, Journey for Change, and to young people. But to assume that upon their return, the magic dust of the Soweto ghetto will have a lasting effect on youth as they negotiate inner city life is implausible. The travel cost of $12,000 per child could have been used for tutors, speech therapists, and maybe even parenting classes. Traveling is one of our greatest educators. Teaching children to give and serve others should be part of life lessons no matter what zip code they live in. But often times, we miss some of our greatest treasures by not taking children to libraries and across town. Touring our national parks, national monuments will bring life to lessons taught in the classrooms. No greater gift could have been given to one of the young men profiled than a book, but did anyone follow up to see if he even read it? Throwing money at poverty without a deliberate evaluative plan is often a waste of resources and time.


Visiting the slums of another country is a good mission trip. But as we saw, the value of the trip was short lived when we are looking for long term solutions for systemic problems that a foreign trip was not able to cure. My questions to the staff of the Salvation Army: Why were these three profiled? Are they a sampling of the thirty kids or are they the exception? How did the letters of young man end up in the hands of the Mrs. Compton-Rock? Why read letters from an incarcerated father to his son on national TV if he wasn’t reading them at home? After some probing, CNN selected the kids to profile and the kids fit a premade storyline that we see over and over-poor fatherless black child saved by the altruism by some outside benevolence force. Several children in the group had two parents. Yet we saw what is typically presented.

After leaving us lost in thought with Malakk Rock vowing to not give up on her special kids, CNN gives us an uplift with the no nonsense school principal with fire in his belly for his students and his belief that his students can and will attend college. With 100% graduation rate and college attendance, Mr. Perry shares his story of being the troubled youth who got out and stayed out of the projects. A positive role model by any standards, his students love and respect for him was obvious. He also shared with America his greatest frustration - getting parents involved with his program. The two parents shown came from predictable, handpicked, scripted backgrounds, perfect for the exploitation of an otherwise uplifting story. The young lady profiled from Capital school had an abusive father and a crack addictive mother. Thankfully, both parents were shown alcohol and drug free. In this segment, we heard clear solutions with proven results, such as longer school days, six day a week school, and allowing junior and seniors to take college classes. Having a high school within a college prepares students for college transition and helps position them in college even if they do not test well on college exams. One of most profound statements made by Principal Perry and not included in this interview was thus:

“I think that the bigger issue when we have a discussion around race is not the interracial discussions but the intra-racial discussions. We don't have a conversation as African-Americans about what we actually value and within our community where those cleavages are. For instance, we don't have a conversation about why it is that so many schools run by African-Americans are so badly under-performing within communities that have always elected black politicians.”

His statement would have changed the tone of the segment and demonstrated that blacks are also holding blacks accountable for the communities they live in.


After hearing the zealous Mr. Perry, CNN does not allow us to stay excited for too long. They bring us shattering back to earth by profiling the founder of the Tuxedo Ball, Dr. Carlotta Miles, and an elite black family. The story focuses on Bertram Lee Jr., a rugby-playing freshman at the elite Haverford College in Pennsylvania. His grandfather was a prominent state judge, his late father a businessman and co-owner of the Denver Nuggets. He said his mother, a top lobbyist in Washington, D.C., instilled in him a love for his race. He was frankly honest about his life and does not apologize for not being poor. Good for him. He shares lessons learned early in life that despite his family’s successful background and affluent lifestyle, wealthy black people still very much feel the sting of racism.

Lee said he was called the N-word at his well-heeled private school and is often questioned by security when he and his black friends play basketball in the school’s gym. Lee sounded grounded and confident and has awareness that his privileged life will not shield him from racist rhetoric. A part of Lee’s affluent life is attending the Annual Tuxedo Ball.

Dr. Carlotta Miles, a psychiatrist and DC area socialite has hosted the Tuxedo Ball for 23 years. Dr. Miles shares the history of the Tuxedo Ball. It is a weekend of socializing and networking that she said grew from a need to keep privileged black children connected after integration. Prominent black families from across the country attend the weekend of events that also includes workshops, motivational seminars, and networking-opportunities. Dr. Miles shares that for generations wealthy blacks have been invisible people, noting

“We are the invisible people because we don’t match the stereotype. The stereotype for black Americans is failure, poverty, failure, victimization and mediocrity.”

When asked how to be a part of this elite group, Dr. Miles insists that in order for your kid to be invited you must be part of the group. This group is only known to members of the group. How can group of supposedly invisible people see each other? Do they wear special glasses that are available to people in the group or CNN?

Dr. Miles's snobbishness came full circle when Soledad asked “How come you don't do a similar thing for kids who are not privileged?” She explained,

“Well, because it's not our mission. There are tons of things that are done for children who are not advantaged. There was nothing for the privileged black child because to be black in America is a challenge for many people whether you're privileged or not."

This statement was from the same interview but shown in an earlier program but. In a perfect world, I would send Dr. Miles and crew to South Africa to get a tutorial in humility.
BIA2 was filmed over a period of several months. After review the transcripts of several shows shown in January around the time of President Obama’s inauguration and February, Black History Month, CNN took segments of the interviews with Dr. Miles, Mr. Perry and Mrs. Compton-Rock to fit the message they wanted conveyed for that particular month. Breaking barriers and the first this and that was shown in January; historical perspectives of blacks in America were shown in February; piss poor and uneducated and socialites with impaired vision in July. One interview sliced to fit the script.

CNN does a hatchet job on black life and handpicked the theme for BIA2. This was not a documentation about black life but an experimentation on how many ways a network can mislead America, especially white American, with one interview.

BIA2 managed to show America blacks flunking out of school and only wanting to shoot basketball, while giving us a glimpse of the life of Blacks who are trying like hell not to be Black in America or see reality. If this is going to be continuing theme with CNN’s Black Folks Series, I will pass on BIA3 and BIA4.

Dinner and Fleas? How not to Entertain 101

I attend many social events in Nashville. My fundraising has evolved into a full-time love affair for the causes I support. And because of my passion, I get invites weekly to parties, events, fundraisers, and social gatherings galore. I am out and about often. I met a nice lady several weeks ago, who attended a fundraiser where I was honored for my work with young people. We talked briefly and promised to follow up with each other.

After exchanging several emails and phone calls, she invited me to a dinner party at her home. She seemed very sincere about helping others and she was aware that I speak often at environmental engagements around the country. She was also curious about the ecological products I use in my business. We shared common interests and had mutual clients.

I accepted her invitation to her party. Her home was in an exclusive neighborhood and I was guaranteed by another party lover that I would enjoy myself and make contacts that would be worth the forty minute drive to her home. Being the professional networker that I am, I could not wait for the big day.

At the party, I saw others I knew. Her home was exquisitely decorated and there were staff to attend to every whim of her guests. Salomon, caviar, smoked trout, and to my surprise, fried catfish nuggets, were just a few of the tempting tidbits that was so beautifully displayed on gigantic silver trays and platters. A bar was stationed in every room downstairs of the home. The décor was summery and southern, no detail spared. I sneaked off to the kitchen to introduce myself to the cater, to ensure I would have a goody bag of catfish to take home. After peeping in the kitchen, the caters were friends and I felt relieved that the food was being prepared by folks who I knew. (Part of my home training from Mississippi is to always know who is cooking the food.)


Thirty minutes into the party, I felt a sting on my leg. Immediately, my spidey senses were alarmed. After being in the pest control business for nearly two decades, I have been stung or bitten by every little creature on earth it seems. Bug repellent for outdoors, antibiotics, antidotes all go in my makeup before my lip gloss. Two minutes later, I felt the second, third, and fourth bites. I excused myself and rushed to the bathroom to give myself a once over. In the powder room, I was not alone. Another guest was intensely looking at her legs. I said, “Oh my, you too”. As we were inspecting ourselves, I pulled out an alcohol swab and started dabbing at a growing red bump. The other woman introduced herself quickly as Julie and said, “You are prepared”. I told her that I owned a pest control company. She knew who I was right away. I poured the contents of my purse out and I spent the next ten minutes doctoring on both of us.

We returned to the party and I noticed several other women were swatting at their legs. I went to the owner and asked if she had any pets. She said yes, several terriers and two chows that were put away. Her babies she informed me. I told her that I was bitten and she had fleas. She said, “I thought I got rid of them.” I stared back stunned, and asked about her treatment schedule. She had her home treated earlier in the week, she informed me. Now, I am pissed because I know she did not use my company and it takes at least two weeks to get fleas under control. The follow up is done in ten days, so she could not have had a follow up treatment. As I was talking to the hostess, we were interrupted by another guest who said she had been bitten by 'something'. The guest then turned to me and asked was I there to take care of the problem. What the hell? No, she didn’t. Yes, folks she asked me to kill the fleas.

I could not get out of there faster enough. I came home with my legs riddled with bites and I was insulted on two levels. I was invited to someone’s home who knew I owned a pest control company, who had conversed with me for several weeks to come to her party and had the audacity to use another pest control company. I have three in college, that job could have bought three text books and a coke. Second, I am at her party as a guest and I was asked to exterminate the pests. In my new BCBG dress, are you kidding me? Now if I had worn something older, sure.

And to add to my burning anger, I left my catfish! Damn. What a night.

After all the planning that was put into this event, the hostess forgot one of the most sacred tenets of entertaining, making sure your party is not remembered for the uninvited guests;ants, spiders, roaches or fleas. This tale of entertaining horror could have been prevented. If you are not using Holmes Pest Control; do not throw a summer extravaganza.

Photo Credits: Erik Johnson,ASAM, HPC

Maxwell brings Sexy back to R & B with his stop in Nashville

After an eight year recording hiatus, Maxwell is back! Maxwell has put the sexy back in R & B music.

Maxwell’s appearance had ladies willing to stand in the rain to see him perform. The Ryman was filled to capacity with the sell out crowd. Through screams, laughter, and dancing in the seat, the audience enjoyed songs from over ten years of hits. Maxwell good looks and sixties throw back style is a modern day version of the icons Marvin Gaye and Sam Cooke.

The official release of “Black Summers’ Night,” a trilogy of studio albums that the artist expects to release over the next three years, coincided with his stop in Nashville. Maxwell’s album is number one in the country.

Opening act, Grammy Award-Winning Chrisette Michele, vocals proved why she is becoming one of the most recognized young voices in the spotlight today. This concert was definitely for the grown and sexy crowd.
Photos: Earl Flippen

A Media drive-by hits TSU

Definitions of drive-by:
“Done or made in a quick or cursory manner”. Webster’s Dictionary

“A drive-by shooting (or drive-by or "D.B." for short) is a form of hit-and-run tactic, an attack carried out by an individual or individuals from a moving or momentarily stopped vehicle. It often results in bystanders being shot instead of, or as well as, the intended target. The objective is to overwhelm the target by a sudden, massive amount of firepower without attention to accuracy”. Wikipedia

According to Urban Dictionary, a “drive-by” media attack implies to shallow, sensationalist, sound-byte-heavy news coverage á la Fox News. Such coverage focus on the scandalous, relies on a reader’s short attention-span, and offers controversial "news" that is mostly cover-up, and/or spin for political purposes.

TSU was on the wrong page at the wrong time and suffered wounds inflicted by our city’s oldest newspaper. An attention grabbing headline on the front page of Saturday’s Tennessean screamed, “TN grad rate is third worst”. Underneath the bold font a large photo depicted students walking on campus, one wearing a shirt that read, “I love TSU”. My youngest son handed me the paper, commenting in a depressed voice, “Mom, TSU has been hit again.”

After seeing the headlines, I put it away to read later. I confess, when I see article after article speaking ill of TSU, I don’t rush to read a negative story. Many of my friends, black and white, often tell me they do not bother to read any TSU story because it is rare any good is reported. “A picture is worth a thousand words”, is an old wise saying. The picture and headline together was a drive-by that left future and current students injured.

For the rest of the story, you have to turn to page 11A where half a page is devoted to the copy. A second photo of TSU records department is prominently placed at the top of the article. The caption underneath the photo in smaller font reads “TSU fairs better than most Tennessee colleges in graduation rates”. I read the article whose headlines seemed to imply that the story was about TSU’s graduation rates. I read the article three times and pondered why the newspaper used TSU’s pics on page 1 and 11 to accompany the sensational headline when the story referenced Belmont, MTSU, and Vanderbilt, and, presumably, all state colleges and universities, public and private. The story gives facts and quotes from the Southern Regional Education Board’s spokesman, Alan Richard and quotes from professors Franklin (MTSU), Gonzalez (Belmont), and Flores (Vanderbilt). A Vanderbilt student is quoted as well. The article discussed in detail issues surrounding Hispanics and Blacks finishing high school and college. College challenges that can be unique to ethnics groups and solutions to close educational gaps were vetted in the article.

On my second reading of the article, I realized no TSU professor or personnel is cited in the story. The article ends by focusing on Ashley Hernandez, 21, a first generation student at Vanderbilt University. But she is taking summer classes at the TSU. In summary, she compares Vanderbilt and TSU. (Duck, here comes the bullets).

At Vanderbilt, Hernandez said, it's unusual if she e-mails a professor and does not hear back from him within a few hours. At TSU, a response can take days.

Wow. Can someone call the corner’s office; folks, I believe we have a fatality. I contacted the reporter to ask why the headline with a picture of TSU was run, when professors from other universities were quoted. Or why not a picture of Miss Hernandez, a Vanderbilt student, with a “I love Commodores” t-shirt on?
Since I am “fair and balanced” like Fox news, I gave her my thoughts on the story. After hearing the reporter’s responses to my questions, I asked if I could quote her. She stated she was not aware she was being interviewed. I was not interviewing her but our conversation was interesting. Our dialogue gave insight to a two prong devil’s fork. The story was not about TSU. But when the paper ran the headlines with TSU’s students in the first photo, used a second photo of TSU’s admission personnel and ended the article with the statements from a part-time student complaining about the university; TSU became its sole target. The reporter was stating facts I was told and it is not the job of a reporter to be concerned about the reputation of TSU. Ouch. My point to her was the photos conveyed a message about TSU which did not connect with the story to me. Her story had an odd smelling odor.

I realized after several push backs, a tiger’s stripes are permanent. My take away from our conversation is that TSU needs to be concerned about the school’s reputation and be proactive in showcasing the schools most precious assets, the students and its outstanding programs. Profiling students and the numerous contributions that are made to society through the university, while marketing to national media outlets are crucial to the school’s long term health. Focusing on a return call back from a newspaper for a positive story is ludicrous at this point. Basic networking teaches us; your message and image are yours to craft and control. How TSU is viewed, is critical to the overall funding, fundraising, recruitment, and retention of students. To roll over and not call out perceived or actual media bias feeds the negative messages that photos under glaring headlines can leave. Public relations have evolved into personal relationship management. The PR of old does not exist anymore in the age of social media.

I strongly suggest to TSU’s leadership to look through their roster of incredibly talented PR graduates who would understand that PR does not mean faxing a press release and invest in a firm that will work night and day to bring all the hidden gems of TSU to the forefront. As part of a long term strategy to build and strengthen community relationships, I would provide interns to local and national media outlets. Allowing the media to work directly with TSU’s talented student body would limit the number of media casualties. Locally, positive stories are usually buried on page 9 of the auto section. In the meantime, I called 911 and asked the diversity police to keep under surveillance the media on Broadway. I believe a crime took place on its front page Saturday, July 11.

AEG Teaches BET "How to be an Entertainment Company" 101

After watching the coverage of Michael Jackson, I noticed many similarities and differences between the AEG and BET televised events. Both are companies that are in the business of staging concerts, television productions and are part of larger conglomerates. BET targets African-American between the ages 18-34 as their marketing base. AEG developed and operates the $150 million official U.S. Olympic Training Facility.

AEG, which was heavily invested in the Michael Jackson upcoming tour, is part of AEG Live. The AEG brand includes managing sport arenas around the world, merchandising, and corporate sponsorship and marketing. BET is part of Viacom which includes VH1, MTV, Nickelodeon, CMT and Comedy Central to name a few. Anyone in the entertainment industry would recognize the power of three short letters, BET or AEG, which employ thousands. That would include camera operators, sound engineers, set designers, travel agents and key board operators. Both entities have contact to talented artists worldwide and can sermon them at a moment’s notice.

AEG’s commitment to excellence was evident in the production of MJ’s home going ceremony. From the details of the printed program to the orchestrated performances of the stars, their desire to ensure MJ’s messages of empowerment, hope, humanitarian endeavors, and his musical genius were reflected in every facet of the production. As I have said previously, how a show starts usually determines how it will end. With the opening song “Going to see the King”, you knew the program would have a spiritual connotation despite the fact an entertainment company was in charge. The attention to details was impeccable. His coordinated brothers were his pall bearers who wore his signature glove. It reminded us that MJ started his musical journey with his brothers. They honored MJ’s independence from the group, by wearing his coveted trademark with loving pride. That symbolic touch was the start of a service that remained elegant from beginning to the end.


BET repeated excuse that it only had a few days to prepare a ‘tribute’ revealed their commitment to mediocrity and throwing things together at the last minute. Their justification for the lack of quality and care gave life to the word “ghetto”. The artistry of the talent on the stages gave you a glimpse of how the two brands view themselves. AEG understood that the eyes of the world were on them and how it managed this program was an investment in how they will be perceived by everyone. BET was the first to honor MJ’s legacy but did not understand the significance of the world’s penetrating glare. The program was marketed as a tribute to MJ but they were not able to turn off their usual misogynistic, sexist, and degrading antics of its own people to realize the social responsibility that was expected of them by fans from around the world to honor MJ’s legacy. BET also misjudged its community and the power of the internet, via blogs and Twitter, to do what others have not been able to accomplish for years, shame them for their programming.

There are many actors and actresses in black community but only a few have won Oscars. Both AEG and BET had African-American Oscar Winners, Jamie Fox and Jennifer Hudson, on their stages. Jamie and Jennifer are musical prodigies but Jennifer used her voice to echo MJ’s talent and Jamie used his voice to mock MJ. Funny stories were shared by many close to MJ at AEG’s event; their stories were heartfelt and respectful. Absence was the buffoonery that Jamie exhibited at BET.

AEG included various artists from Motown, which was part of MJ’s history as well as a strong influence in the black community. BET had access to Motown executives and artists also. They have honored Diana Ross, Barry Gordy, and Quincy Jones in recent years. I remember Miss Ross admonishing the audience to respect each other with their lyrics and dances. Both companies had athletes on stage. AEG athletes, Kobe and Magic, shared firsthand stories about MJ that made everyone laugh. BET’s Athlete of the Year, LeBron James, was booed by the audience. No public apology was issued to LeBron James or his legions of fans watching. AEG used their arsenal of contacts for the greater good and used MJ’s music to unite the world. In contrast, BET does not understand the value of maintaining healthy community and artistic relationships from different genres, musical eras, and backgrounds.



Each song that was performed at the memorial highlighted MJ’s legacy. His songs were the heart of the service. The songs that were not his songs, like Smile, were song because they were meaningful to him and touched MJ in a special way. The song “Every Girl” included in BET’s show and sung by baby maker, Lil Wayne, seems an odd choice whether you are a fan of MJ or not. It’s hard to believe Lil Wayne cared about a tribute to MJ. But on the other hand, Usher’s performance was loving and unforgettable. Not only did he move the audience emotionally with his presentation, but you knew his tearful tribute was from the heart. In fact, when I listened to BET’s replay, the tribute was riddled with profanity, plugs for new releases, concerts appearances, and various BET “products”, i.e. reality shows, that will do more harm than good to its demographics.


There was no stage or casket sponsorship with AEG. But BET’s sponsors were mentioned every few minutes. Jennifer Hudson, who wore a modest white dress, did not leave us questioning her attire. Whereas Beyonce’s white outfit, left many bewildered. Both women had others on stage with them, but the additional people on the stage with Jennifer were the chorus who gave you a visual that MJ’s songs reflected his admiration of diversity and international inclusion. Beyonce’s extras on stage were part of her costume change that emphasize her “showmanship” not MJ’s words that tells us, “In the promise of another tomorrow, I'll never let you part for you're always in my heart”. AEG even muzzled Joe Jackson and did not prominently showcase him or his coonery. BET gave him a world stage that left us all wondering why in God’s name would anyone give him a mic or MJ’s children.



AEG gave an emphasis to Michael Jackson’s childlike heart in many respects and ended their memorable tribute with children singing his words, with smiles and joyful hearts that radiated from the stage. The last words spoken regarding the greatest entertainer in the world was an unexpected announcement from his daughter that her “Daddy was the greatest father in the world”. It left critics speechless and moved the rest of the world to tears.


On the other hand, BET’s children who were on stage left me speechless and in tears but for reasons that has been addressed by thousands of angry emails and tweets to Debra Lee.

In the end, AEG showed us it was not about Michael Jackson, but the mark he left on the world. They managed to show that in spite of the years of suspicion, two trials and media debauchery, he made contributions that cannot be argued or denied. His monetary gifts of 300 million to global agencies have touched thousands of lives but his songs will live “forever, and forever, and forever”. BET showed us that it was all about them, and they shot themselves in the foot. They drew attention to everything that is wrong with BET’s brand and why it hurts the black community on a wide-reaching stage. The stereotypes of the African- American community, that many fight every day, were front and center.

AEG will make millions from the reproduction of ceremony and the memorabilia copyrights. They invested in MJ’s ceremony and made their name a household brand. Their stock will increase and they will become known as the entertainment company for quality production events. BET made a few thousands and proved why they are becoming irrelevant in the entertainment community. They will be forever and forever and forever remembered for their failed attempt to honor an African-American musical intellectual that transcended race, religion, and politics. They did not take the time to view the long term value of honoring MJ right the first time, even on a smaller scale. The lessons AEG showed us by their actions should be a life lesson for everyone not only BET; the value of your brand is reflective of the standards you set.
Photo Credit: MTV, NBC, www.realtalkNY.net